WanderLost
by What I See In The Mirror
Summary: Aerlynn Einarrsdottir, Prophesied Crown Princess of Amaranth, last of the Gaian Clan, and of her family, awakens millennia after her willing sacrifice to the earth in a last-ditch attempt to save her people. But she wakes up to find that the worst has happened and her realm has been lost. This is for my beautiful and amazing friend, Alison. P.S.- Eventual StevexOC pairing. R&R!
1. Prologue- Ultimate Sacrifice

Author's Note: This is something I've worked on for quite some time. I designed the character very carefully, along with her backstory, whih will be further elaborated on as the story progresses. I made this cover image myself, and the quote written on it. I'm very proud of it, so please do not steal it or use it without my permission (and you must tell them where you got it and the original owner.) Thievery will prompt me to remove the cover image and plagiarizing will force me to take down this story. I certainly wouldn't mind allowing others to borrow the photo for creative purposes, however, as long as my rules are abided. Thank you, and please, leave a review!

Disclaimer: The Avengers belong to Marvel, and so do its characters and plot lines. All I own is my original character and her storyline.

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Brief Summary: Wanderlust: noun, wan·der·lust \ˈwän-dər-ˌləst\; an intense, often irresistible urge to travel and see the world. A combination of the word 'wander,' meaning 'to roam aimlessly', and 'lust,' meaning 'desire.' WanderLost, on the other hand? That's a whole new story. Aerlynn Einarrsdottir didn't know she was a princess until she was forced into the role. One problem- she never wanted the crown and still doesn't. Toss in a deadly opponent, a sacrifice, and a nap longer than Captain America's, and you've got one hell of a story cooked up.

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Aerlynn races away from her pursuers, desperately crashing through the untamed forest. Brambles and sharp branches claw and scratch at the exposed skin of her arms, and her lifted skirts allow them to stab at her ankles. Silently cursing the Rebels for forcing her into such a gaudy and ridiculous outfit for her first public appearance where she would declare herself the true ruler of her realm, she picks up the pace. Clutching at the burning stitch in her side that was consistently making it harder and harder to breathe as she flees, she realizes her options are limited. This dratted gown was made up of an insanely tight bodice, paired with voluminous skirts so thick and layered that they hampered every step she attempted to take. Bits of silk and lace are caught on the extended roots and bushes, providing a clear trail for Caleb and his minions to follow, and did little to divest her of the stifling clothing. A wide clearing ahead made her eyes widen. In such open space, she was a deer cornered by the lions.

In this silly confection, she wouldn't be able to fight. Nor did she have proper access to the more complex and physical aspects of her magic. A sudden thought cuts through the jumbled mess of discordancy that was her mind, and she nearly gasps at the sheer impossibility of the daunting task that may be her only salvation. Reaching out with one hand, the other firmly lifting her skirts from her feet, she closes her eyes and imagines a tear appearing as her hand moves downwards. She had done it, created a portal to another dimension, or world, or whatever it was you'd like to call it. With no time left to think, she leaps through it as it begins to close, the gash in the cloth of time and space mending itself reflexively.

Barely catching herself on her suddenly outstretched hands, she bites her lip fiercely as she feels one of her wrists crack. Forcing herself to stand, she has little time to take in her surroundings- grassy, emerald hills overlooking a cerulean sea- before a distorted flash of color she recognizes to be another door between worlds appears, spewing out the man she hated and feared most- Caleb.

It had been him who had murdered the Royal family, _her_ family, save for herself. It had been him who had been pursuing her, the last member of the Gaian Clan, for her powers, which were Prophesied to be worthy of legend. If only she knew how to use them. But she didn't, as she had been raised in the outskirts of Amaranth, in a poor village where nobody would dare look for the remaining member of her clan. Only weeks ago had her true identity even been revealed to her. And only hours before this moment had she been revealed as Aerlynn Einarrsdottir, the Prophesied Princess of the Amaranth Realm and Head of the Gaian Clan, also dubbed as the Savior of the People. But she wasn't any of those things, not really. No, she was Aerie, daughter of the village blacksmith. She was Aerie, brightest of her class. She was Aerie, the girl madly in love with her neighbor, Daniel. She was Aerie, the girl who hated the princess.

"Hello, Princess," he pants, exerted from his jump.

His dark eyes, roving over her form greedily, make her feel ill. "Caleb."

"I can make it quick, you know. If you'll just surrender-"

She cuts across his words with a sudden surge of venom and anger, "I will not lie down to die! I am my family's daughter, the last of my clan, and you will never get your filthy hands on my powers!"

"Won't I, Princess? That little friend of yours, Daniel, said the same thing. Before I took off his head." He grins that wicked smile, pleased with his work.

Daniel was... Dead? But... A renewed burst of determination leaps through her bones, molten fury burning its way through her veins. The riskiest move of all, one that she had hesitated to perform only because of Daniel, was now available. It would take her life, but right now, she didn't care. Right now, her well-being meant nothing compared to the lives of her people, who would suffer and die at Caleb's hands if he gained her abilities. "He was right," she growls out, her teeth bared in a feral, dangerous smile.

Dropping to her knees, she firmly sinks her hands into the malleable soil. "I relinquish myself, and my powers, to the earth from whence they came."

"No!" He rushes forwards, but it's too late.

The grass, which has been steadily wrapping itself around her slender fingers, drags her underground with a sudden surge. The bittersweet princess vanishes into the hill without a trace. Her last thought before she is yanked abruptly into the dark earth is simple and comes with an air of finality- Goodbye.


	2. Chapter 1- Awakening

_"I love walking in the rain cause no one can see me crying." - Rowan Atkinson_

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"Why the hell are we even here?" Stark grouches, the stiff-set expression of the mask making him seem sulkier.

"Because, man of iron, it is our duty," Thor calmly replies, munching on a PopTart.

"Plus," Romanoff adds, "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s got readings for this area like the ones from Mjolnir."

"I get that Hammer boy should be here, but why us? Why not one of those S.H.I.E.L.D. minions?" Stark groans, cranky that he had to leave Pepper during the weekend.

"Because Fury wants to see if we can work together without a world catastrophe threatening to kill us all," Barton is blunt with his opinion.

The ancient tree beside them, on the grassy hills of Ireland, groans. An odd sound, as if the ground is shifting, although there are no tremors, makes them all wary. "Holy..." Stark is speechless when his eye catches sight of what has emerged.

Lying on the grass, perfectly still, is a woman. The team steps closer to her, noting the clothing reminiscent to Victorian-style gowns, lacy and elaborate. Her hair is perfectly arranged, a silver wreath of an unrecognizable flower woven in. Multiple shades of color tint her curls, ranging from a deep mahogany and nut-brown to honeys, maple-golds, and hints of russet. The colors melded together perfectly, in as many layers as the forest. Her ivory complexion is perfect, no hint of freckles or acne dotting her skin. "She looks like one of those damned Disney princesses..." Tony gapes, noting the clasped hands on her stomach and the blood-red shine of her full lips.

Thor drops his PopTart. "This woman bears the symbol of the Gaian Clan."

"The what?" Romanoff demands, gun drawn.

"The flowers in her crown are a magical flower of myth." Thor moves closer to her, the mysterious lady who remained still as if in slumber.

"Excuse me?" Natasha props her hands on her hips.

Her hands curl up in the grass, and her eyes flicker open, revealing bold, misty-grey eyes gleaming with apprehension. Rapidly sitting up, she hastily backs away from their curious eyes. Musical and lilting, the naturally peaceful tone of her voice is disrupted by the urgency coloring her words. "Where am I? What has become of the Amaranth Realm?"

"By the Nine Realms..." Thor's jaw drops when he hears her words.

By now, she's standing. If possible, at his words, her ivory skin becomes even paler, now tinged with grey. "Nine realms?" She whispers, stunned.

Her eyes suddenly harden, flashing silver. She turns to face the ancient tree with a cry, a terrible mix of a shriek, sob, and wail torn from her throat as she races forwards. Slamming her clenched fists and arms against the rough bark, she screams, raging against the earth. "I gave up everything!"

Her efforts are futile, dark streaks of her blood painted across the surface of the tree as she strikes at it again and again. "My life!"

Another hit. "My powers!"

Thor races towards her and yanks her away from the tree, firmly restraining the furious woman from causing herself any more harm. "Daniel..." She groans under her breath, too angry for tears.

She struggles in his grip, yelling for him to let her go. All of a sudden, lightning flashes, and she finds the strength to break free. Blood drips down her arms as she glowers at the group, all of whom have their weapons drawn. Her eyes truly glow silver as she snarls, wind and water rushing and rising around her. "You need to calm down before anyone gets hurt!" Steve yells, shield ready to be thrown.

"No! Leave me alone!" The water haphazardly swirls around them all, slapping and splashing the Avengers at random. The salty seawater drips down her face, mingling with the blood on her arms and making her wounds sting terribly. Her tears, which are finally spilling down her cheeks, is well-disguised by the water.

Natasha can't wait for the situation to diffuse itself. Raising her gun, she fires off two quick shots at the woman, hitting her squarely in the chest. Aerlynn collapses, and the team turns to Natasha in shock. "What did you shoot her for?!" Tony yelps.

"I didn't kill her! Those were tranq rounds!" Stuffing the gun back into the holster strapped to her thigh, she shakes her head in disbelief. Did they always have to assume the worst?

Barton sighs. "Let's just head back to the jet. Someone grab the girl."

Aerlynn slowly comes to her senses, startled to find herself within some kind of metal craft. Sitting up rapidly, she moans softly as a sudden wave of dizziness overcomes her. "You're going to feel like that for some time."

Turning towards the voice, she narrows her eyes when she realizes it was the same man who had tried to tell her to calm down. "Where am I?" She stiffly demands, straightening her posture and lifting her chin.

"On a jet."

"What?" Jet... The word was strange and unfamiliar.

He frowns. "Do you know who you are?"

"Aerlynn Einarrsdottir, the Prophesied. Last of the Gaian Clan, Crown Princess of the Amaranth Realm," she instantly replies, her titles burned into her memory by the Rebels.

Thor appraises her carefully. "Princess, I am sure you must understand this by now, but your realm has been lost."

"I sacrificed myself to the earth in order to prevent Caleb from obtaining my powers... And it was all for nothing." She bows her head.

"What do you mean?" In all the myths about the Lost Realm, he hadn't yet heard this part of the tale of the Lost Princess.

"My realm, Amaranth, was named after the flower who's likeness I wear in my crown. An amaranth is an eternal flower, that never wilts or dies. Some say it can be used to heal. My clan, the Gaians, were linked to it. The amaranth was the symbol of our clan, and of the royal family. When I was born, a Prophecy was made, claiming that my powers would be like no other. You see, my clan kept the realm alive and prosperous for eons, since the beginning of time. Our connection to the land, and to magic, allowed us to bestow blessings upon crops and animals. All in our family carry - carried - an innate goodness, a certain light that keeps us out of the darkness. But, we were attacked."

"Who would attack you, Lady?"

"Caleb. You see, a fact that is well-known is that my family is extremely hard to kill, practically immortal. He slaughtered my people with a magic so dark that it was considered pure evil. I alone survived. The trauma locked my memories away, and I was raised in a village that was not very wealthy. There, I was Aerie, daughter of Jon and Aliana. He was a blacksmith, and my neighbor, Daniel, was his apprentice. I grew up blissfully unaware of the bounty on my head and of my powers." A sad smile appears on her lips, and she casts her eyes downwards, "I fell in love with him, and we were set to be married in the spring. He would take over my father's trade, and I would be his bride. But all of that came crashing down when the Rebels seized me from Jon and Aliana, told me of my true heritage, and forced me out of hiding."

By now, everyone but Natasha, who is piloting, is held captive by her story. "What next?" Stark urges, eyes wide with interest.

"Caleb happened. I ran, and I created a portal to a random realm. This realm. He was, regrettably, able to follow me. He revealed to me that Daniel had been killed, and that I might as well stop fighting. But I didn't. I sacrificed myself to the earth, taking comfort in the knowledge that Amaranth should have been safe. Now, I have been thrown back up. Rejected, along with my sacrifice." The smile twists into a grimace as she fiddles with the bandages covering her forearms.

"So, you've been under there since before even Thor was born..." Stark realizes, shocked. "How are you still so, you know, young?"

"I am a goddess. Also, those of my clan are ageless."

"You're immortal?" Clint asks, mildly impressed.

"No, simply ageless. I can be killed, but I cannot age." Mortals. What a foolish concept, immortality. Only Death itself may not die.

Suddenly annoyed by the bandages she's been toying with, she rips off the cloth, revealing already mended skin, looking just as it did before she slammed them against the rough bark, no scars left from the gouges previously bleeding there. "Lady, your realm may not have survived, but your people did. The Light Elves are descendants of the original peoples who called Amaranth home. They fled, and found their way to Alfheim, where they cohabitated with the inhabitants of the land."

Her gaze snaps upwards, hope flaring to life in her eyes. "Truly, they-they live?"

Thor smiles gently. "Yes. And they would be most honored to see the princess who gave up her life to save them all."

"I did not save them. They should not be glad..." Her breathing slows to almost a complete stop, and she pales considerably. She didn't deserve anything, least of all the gratitude or worship of the descendants of the people she'd failed.

"Hey, are you okay?" The man with the shield asks as her breathing fails to pick up again.

She can't answer. She can't breathe, she can't move, much less speak. Her head spins, and her vision blurs. Swaying in her seat, hands lower her sideways back to the position she'd woken up in. "Try to breathe, okay? You can." Her grey eyes lock on sapphire-blue ones.

She nods, attempting to force her heart rate down. It feels like an eternity before she can properly draw in a breath, and even longer before she can move. It's even longer before she realizes she's clutching his hand like a desperate child. He simply nods to her, eyes urging her to breathe regularly. Soon, she attempts to sit up once more, and there are hands on her waist instantly to support her. "My thanks," she murmurs, suddenly finding herself unable to meet any of their gazes.

"Are you alright, Lady?"

She nods. "Of course. I just..."

Tony finishes her sentence. "Had a panic attack. That's what the cool kids are calling it these days, anyway."

Her cheeks burn crimson. She certainly did not mean to look so weak. She was still supposed to be a Princess, and a Prophesied one at that. "There is no shame in feeling unwell, Lady Aerlynn." Thor understands how she feels, as Sif once had the same reaction when breaking her wrist, "It is only right. You were trapped underneath the earth for millennia, and have only awoken to your worst nightmare."

He was feeling sorry for her. She could hear it in his tone, and for some reason, it bothered her greatly. "I do not require your pity. After all, I am your prisoner." Her voice is sharp, tone cold.

"Well then... Let's introduce ourselves, shall we?" Tony abruptly changes the subject. This woman could send this whole plane down if she were angry enough, of that he was sure. And though his suit would protect him, Fury would be royally pissed if they broke another one of these things.

"Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. Over here is Clint Barton, but I just call him Legolas."

Clint glowers. "It's Hawkeye."

Tony simply rolls his eyes and shrugs. "The guy who's hand you were crushing is Steve Rogers, aka, Captain America. Or, my favorite, Capsicle. Hammer boy is also known as Thor Odinson, from Asgard. And last but not least, Natasha Romanoff. Or Natalie, whatever she decides to go by for the day. She's a kick-ass super-assassin partnered with Legolas over here. They call her Black Widow, or Widow for short. She's piloting this thing." He jerks his thumb towards the front of plane, mild annoyance in his tone when he calls her Natalie.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To S.H.I.E.L.D. base, also known as the helipad. You'll meet a one-eyed dude called Fury there." He replies with a straight face.

Aerlynn glowers. It was obvious he was mocking someone, by the tone of his voice. Thor speaks before she can. "Lady Aerlynn, you must journey to Asgard with me. The All-Father will be pleased to hear of your awakening."

"Son of Odin, I do not believe that is the best choice. I would much rather stay away from the realms of Asgard or Alheim. I will remain here."

He frowns like a pleading puppy. "Surely you would not deny my mother, the Queen Frigga, the wondrous opportunity to meet you. She is a great scholar and was fascinated by the stories of you and your realm. It would be a courtesy, as you are still a princess."

She glares. He knew that she would not be able to deny the formal request of a meeting with someone of a status like hers. Technically, she was the Queen of Amaranth still, however many times she preferred the title Crown Princess. "I accept your request, Son of Odin, but let me warn you now- I will not be used as a pawn. I have had enough of that."

He grins. "Of course, Princess."


End file.
